Page 52 of Fall
I need air.
I crave space.
I demand violence.
I’ve lost Iris.
My emotions are out of control.
“Keep guard,” I order in a bark, before storming a foot away and hunkering by the base of a tree.
Breathe.
The final pieces of my plan are slotting into their rightful place. I puff out a slow and steady jet of air. My head lands in my palms as adrenaline pumps faster. I’m buzzed and wired for war. Volts of grudge-bearing energy buzz through my body. It’s all contained inside me like a volcano preparing to erupt. My muscles ache from the tension. I roll out my shoulders and massage the back of my neck.
Two more lives.
Miguel.
Maria.
And then I’ll sink the criminals who sent Miguel to collect my list of drug traffickers. Heavy footsteps interrupt my thoughts. I wrench my head up with a scowl painted across my tired face.
“Sir, is everything okay?” A young guy dressed in camo with a field rifle under his arm eyes me from the shade. “Do you need something?”
“I need Iris,” I mutter with brutal honesty.
Fuck! Don’t answer questions.
I stand up to face him head on. My bloodied knuckles sting when I open and close my bare hands. Curbing my volatile mood with deep breaths flattens my need for vengeance to stealth and containment. “I’m going back in. Make sure there are no interruptions. One of us will come out alive. On the off chance it’s him, blow him up with bullets.”
I rip off the damp T-shirt, toss it aside and focus on the hut door.
The time has come to end this rivalry once and for all.
18
What a disaster.
How could I lose track of time? It's not my fault I stumbled upon a cave or that the shade replicated nightfall. I’d been lost in my thoughts for hours instead of moments. After Laoch disappeared, I gazed up at the rock formation, wishing I could run tests and take samples.
I’m chasing the sunrise to meet Sal at the helipad, hurtling through the rainforest with a single wish chanting on repeat. A chance to depart this land and find a happiness that doesn’t involve turbulent emotions and shattered dreams.
Intense humidity heats the break of morning. Trickles of sweat slide down my spine. The detour I’d taken makes it difficult to find the trail, but I keep on going. My pulse races with panic. I have no doubt Sal is worried and will ask the pilot to wait for me. He knows I won’t betray his trust. Either way, I need to reach the Oasis, board that helicopter and leave all this behind me.
I wish I could see the sky through the overhead canopy and feel the sunshine on my skin. Sinister leafy shadows play tricks with my mind, leading me one way instead of the other.
Eventually, the medley of trees divide, and my dirty boots land on a track. My hurried pace eats up the mushy earth. The contents of my backpack jiggle with every hop and a skip. This is the right path. I know it.
A few moments later, I get the distinct feeling I’m not alone. Nerves skitter inside my chest. I try to ignore the burst of fear and tell myself it’s only nosey animals, until the outline of a man bounces into view, and I’m halted by the never-ending barrel of a rifle.
“Don’t move.” An ebony faced man wearing head to toe obsidian clothes fixes his aim at my heaving chest. “Put your hands on your head,” he orders with a native accent.
“Wait.” I do as he instructs. “I’m trying to find the Oasis. Salvador is expecting me.”
“Who are you?” he asks sharply.
Good question. Who am I? Am I still Iris Kitson, the ecologist, or the evolved beija flor with a multi-faceted character enriched by Dante Valez. My hesitation earns a prod of unforgiving steel to my spine from behind. I’m quickly circled by a team of men. “I was staying at the Oasis with el Fantasma, and now I’m getting ready to leave.”
